


As My King Commands

by Tilltheendwilliwrite



Series: Loki Laufeyson One-Shots And Reader Stories [5]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Light Dom/sub, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Rough Sex, Sex Toys, Shameless Smut, Smut, Swearing, Vaginal Sex, тэг заменён на Don't copy to another site
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-13 02:46:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16884189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tilltheendwilliwrite/pseuds/Tilltheendwilliwrite
Summary: Created for Maggie as a gift. This is what your torment leads me to do. Burn with me.





	As My King Commands

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Magellan88](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magellan88/gifts).



Created for @magellan-88 after receiving this image.

 

* * *

Standing on the balcony overlooking the courtyard and grounds of the castle Loki and Thor had grown up in, you watched the comings and goings of lords and ladies with a worried frown. It had been more than a week since Loki and Thor had left to go assist a neighbouring realm which was under attack by some civilization or other. Animal, mineral, vegetable, you weren’t quite sure as the explanation had been swiftly given before Loki was whisking you off to his childhood home, then rushing off to help his brother.

It was a reasonably common occurrence now, Thor asking for and receiving Loki’s help, but, whenever Loki was called home, you were required to accompany him. You were his life, his love, his _queen_ , the only woman to ever unlock the God of Mischief’s hardened heart. To him, you were everything, and, while he trusted the Avengers, the team and people he worked with on Earth, he didn’t trust them enough to leave you in their care while he was away.

You weren’t one of them after all. Not one of Earth’s Mightiest Heroes.

You were a fairly new, but relatively well-liked and respected author. Books were your passion whether reading or writing them and had been how you’d happened to stumble upon the God of Mischief in the first place.

You’d been looking for information on Asgard, hoping to model your fictional world off his very real one, but the content in the books were all so phony. It was all myth and make believe, guess and hearsay by old men who had also never seen it either. Frustrated, you’d kicked the shelf of the bookcase you were standing before in the fourth bookstore claiming to have _true_ Asgardian knowledge when the dark haired man had sauntered around the corner to lean against the shelving.

He’d asked if you always kicked inanimate objects, clearly amused, to which you’d tilted your chin up defiantly and told him exactly where to stuff his amusement. It wasn’t like not finding the correct information would cause complete chaos and ruin the entire premise of your book… oh, wait, yes it would! With a flick of your hair, you stomped away, headache brewing and desperate for a cup of coffee before you took the shitty public transit home.

It wasn’t until you were standing in line at your favourite little coffee shop, eyeing the last white chocolate raspberry scone covetously that you realized he’d followed you. Apparently, your fit of pique - as he’d called it - had intrigued him enough to wonder if you always sassed strangers or if you were just having an off day. You’d been about to tell him off a second time when the whispers from the people around you had finally registered, informing you, you were standing in the presence of one of the two people most able to help you.

Stunned at your good fortune, you hadn’t even asked for assistance, simply yanked him by the arm to a nearby table, dragging him down with you and bombarding him with questions about everything and anything Asgardian, digging out a notebook to keep all the answers straight.

When your stomach rumbled some hours later, you realized how long you’d sat there, picking his brain, not even thinking about where he might need to be or who he may have kept waiting by catering to you.

He’d dismissed your worries as a moot point, stating he’d been on his own that day, free to wander as he willed, little had he known he’d find such an inquisitive Midgardian. He’d smiled then, a soft, slightly crooked, mischief filled grin, causing your heart to flip in your chest.

It had been the beginning of the end for you, the fall coming far faster than with any man you’d ever met before him. As you were the queen of his heart, he was the king of yours. It had been a tumble, a rush, a headlong crash into a love so deep, so all-encompassing at times it was difficult to believe it was real.

But, here you stood, staring at the world you’d only dreamed of and not for the first time.

Loki had brought you to Asgard when he’d finally admitted you were far more than just a _girlfriend_ to him. You were so much more, the Asgardian equivalent of a soul-mate. It had been shocking, and not a little disconcerting to know the bonds which bound you together were soul deep, so far down they would never break, never fray, never end. The love, lust, _need_ you had for him was so great, so strong, at times it was nearly painful, but you wouldn’t change it, not for anything on Earth or Asgard or within the Nine Realms.

Still, continually being dragged out of your world had its determinants. Electronics had issues on Asgard. Something about the magic of the world interfering with the electrical currents. So, when you wanted to write, you used a pen and notebook, something which caused your hand to cramp after about thirty minutes.

Loki, however, insisted as he was far more comfortable with the guards and people of Asgard, knowing full well Heimdahl kept an extra eye on you to make sure you were staying out of trouble. Today, though, trouble had found you, hence the reason you were hiding out in your chambers rather than enjoying the feast of a dinner which seemed to be held every night.

Sif had been by, her face showing concern, but you’d shrugged it off. It wasn’t her fault Sir Davos was an asshole.

Still, you had no desire to see or be in the same room as that man.

Releasing the railing, you sighed.

Davos had been a complete and total flirt since the second Loki and Thor had left. He’d danced attendance on you like it was his right, touching you with a familiarity you’d firmly rebuffed until, finally, Sif had stepped in, telling him she would happily take his hand for touching Loki’s beloved. After, he’d been more subtle about it, but he still made you uncomfortable. And, when Loki returned, you had to wonder how poorly he would react.

He wasn’t known as a dark god for nothing after all.

They had been gone so long this time. Ten days at least, the sharp ache of his absence was felt in your bones. “Loki, love… come home,” you whispered, swiping at the foolish tear falling down your cheek.

“Was I gone so long, beloved, your heart had started to break for me?”

Cold air brushed across your cheek, his deep voice crooned in your ear, and you froze in fragile hope. Was your mind playing tricks on you? “Loki?”

His arms banded your waist and you nearly sobbed in relief.

“Here now, love. What’s this? Tears? Have you missed me so?”

Turning into his chest, you threw your arms around his neck and just held on. “You were… you were gone so long I feared… I feared something terrible…” Shaking, you failed to get the worry out.

“Hush now. All is well.”

Strong hands, warm and yet somehow still retaining the feel of ice trailed over your back, stroking and petting until you’d calmed sufficiently. “Loki,” you sighed, tucking your face against his throat.

“What is it that has so upset my queen? What has you hiding in our chambers while the rest of Asgard feast and celebrates our victory?”

You froze at the inquiry. “It’s… it’s nothing.”

He stepped back, face hardening as he looked you over. “You are dressed as befits a princess of Asgard, this gown a radiant addition to my beloved, but you hide your grace, your beauty away? I think not,” he scoffed, turning and tucking your fingers within the cleft of his elbow. “We will join my brother.”

You had to admit, the clothing of Asgard was far superior to that which you wore on Earth. The dress you had on was stunning, a shimmering bronze column of beaded silk encrusted with precious stones. Arms bare, the neckline was modest, a shallow scoop, showing the torque around your neck which proclaimed you a lady of the house of Odin. The simple circlet which held back your hair, resting upon your brow did the same. The back of the dress draped slightly, opening to your upper back while a short train followed you wherever you went. Soft slippers kept your steps silent, warm and comfortable, and your skin glowed with the constant attention paid to it by the attendants Loki had thrust upon you.

Your lady’s maids still snickered and twittered when you shooed them out instead of allowing them to dress you. They’d put their foot down when it came to bathing though. It was their duty to attend and see you were properly prepared for your lord husband… and his bed.

The first time he’d brought you to Asgard and left you at their mercy you’d been ready to smack him with a weighty book, but the look upon his face when he’d seen you dressed, buffed, and polished as befitting the lady wife of Loki, the God of Mischief, had the hours of embarrassment being worth it. If it wasn’t for the fact you were human and needed to eat at regular intervals, you doubted you’d have seen more than the ceiling of your chambers those first two days you’d been in Asgard.

Still, as he drew you toward the door, you resisted. “Loki… I…” You bit your lip, worrying at it.

His visage hardened further. “Enough! What is it? Who has you in such a state you do not wish to leave this room?”

Flinching away from his anger, you cast your gaze to the floor. “Sir Davos,” you relented, knowing there would be no denying him when he was like this.

“Davos?” he frowned. “He is nearly as aged as Odin. What possible harm could that old fool cause you?”

“Not Lord Davos… the younger Davos, Sir Davos.” The elder Davos was sweet, kind and jovial. His pleasing nature and vast knowledge had been the reason you’d sought out his company, unaware of Davos the younger and his lecherous ways.

“You speak of Malis,” he hissed softly, turning harsh blue eyes your way, drawing you closer by the hands at your elbows. “Did he touch you, darling? Hurt you? Speak inappropriately?”

“Sif warned him away,” you whispered, breath growing shallow as the dark god your husband was came boldly to the surface. “Loki,” you moaned, reaching for him. There was murder in his eyes, the wicked mischief becoming something harsher, darker, far more deadly. It was frightening, but it was also intoxicating, as it always was when he showed you his dark side.

“He will answer to _me_ for the insult to my beloved, my queen, my very heart!” he snarled.

The sound skated fingers of desire down your spine. “Loki,” you sighed.

His attention snapped from whatever hell he was planning for Davos to you, and the darkness turned, grew heated, changing in a heartbeat of time from the desire to do damage to the desire to please and claim and appease the lust growing between you.

What was left of the blue in his eyes darkened to sultry green when his magic began to ripple and play, curl and lick at your bare arms. He stepped closer, backing you slowly into the wall. A devil smile curved his lips, lips which fell to hover above the exposed flesh of your collarbone. “Have you missed it, pet?”

“What?” you panted softly, skin prickling, aching for his touch.

He breathed a puff of air over your flesh, cooling and tingling, laced with his magic. “My breath on your skin?”

“Yes,” you moaned, arching toward him.

“My lips on your throat?” he asked, skimming them slowly up the length.

“Yes,” you quaked, hands lifting to settle softly on his chest.

“My voice in your ear?” he breathed against the shell.

“Loki,” his name was a plea in your desire laden voice.

“Have you missed your king’s touch?” he asked, fingers gliding up your ribcage, cupping and weighing your breasts, thumbs gently catching your nipples through the beaded fabric.

“Yes!” you cried, quivering beneath the onslaught of sensation.

“Have you missed my touch, love? How I know you by heart. How only I can bring you to the edge, over, and over, and over again.” His lips skated your cheek, pressed tenderly at the corner of your mouth, hovered over your lips. “Look at me, darling.”

Opening eyes you hadn’t realized you’d closed, you peered up at the God of Mischief, his attention focused entirely on you. “My king,” you whispered.

“Tell me, my queen… have you missed me?”

The whispered words had your knees weakening. “Yes…”

His mouth closed over yours with the lightest of pressure, a barely-there kiss. Feather-light, his lips whispered, bespoke care and love, and tender affection. Then, the silky glide of his tongue swept your bottom lip, teeth caught and tugged at it, made you moan and dig your fingers into his lightly armoured chest. He hadn’t even changed clothes before coming to you, a thought which made your heart soar.

The firm pressure of his long fingers wrapping around your wrist made you shiver. The care he used as he drew your hands from his chest, never removing his teasing, plucking lips from yours had a soft moan washing from you. When he pressed your hands above your head, laying his body firmly against you, pinning you to the wall, only then did he feast.

Completely at his mercy, you opened your mouth for the twisting, twining, coaxing tongue which slipped between your lips. It was always like this when he kissed you. As if he’d forgotten, somehow, the taste of your lips, the depths of your mouth, the shape of your teeth.

You grew drunk on his flavour, on the way his magic seemed to fill every part of you. It ran in trickles of cool, soothing, peppermint-laced wisps of magic over your tongue and down your throat, leaving you a humming, moaning mess.

Invisible bonds sealed your wrists to the wall, allowing Loki to trail his elegant fingers down your bare arms. They stroked and kneaded your skin, raised gooseflesh in their wake, felt like fire one moment and ice the next until gentle knuckles skimmed your smooth underarms. A rather high pitched but short-lived giggle erupted, and he smiled, for it always tickled, always drew the same reaction from you.

His fingers hooked the straps of your gown, and then it was falling away, the seams simply letting go at his will, rushing down your body in a shimmer of beaded fabric, the sound that of a snake’s rattle when it pooled around your ankles. He stepped back to admire you laid bare before him, your skin soft and glowing, glittering with the creams and oils, the shimmering powders and decadent perfumes your attendants insisted upon. The mark of your bonding, a twisted pair of golden serpents rested upon your left hip, gleaming brightly in the low lighting, peaking out above the strap of what Asgardians considered underthings.

The panties, if you could call them such, were nothing more than a swatch of fabric between your legs, tied on each hip by a jewelled ribbon. There was little to nothing to them, the fabric nearly sheer to begin with, and left little to the imagination, but Loki always took great care in the removal of them. Something about pulling on the bows with his teeth seemed to do it for him.

The night was falling, the boisterous sounds of revelry filtering through the air, but neither you nor Loki paid it any mind. You were far too wrapped up in each other to notice the laughter, the singing, the chaos of a typical Asgardian feast.

He returned to you, tapered fingers sliding over the curves of your body, tender touches of hands strong enough to crush bone. On you, they were reverent, worshipful, gentle, always gentle in the beginning. The slow touches burned paths of sensation through your nerve endings, seared you to the core. They drove you wild as they drove you higher, set you panting, moaning, arching into the squeeze of his palm at your waist.

Here, too, he acted as if he was discovering you for the first time all over again. There was no rushing him, not in this mood, not when he was reining in the devil, the dark god, the devious one whose sole desire was to maim and wreak havoc.

Davos should be on his knees thanking you for your ability to distract and disarm the male before you.

The one whose thumbs were lazily stroking your ribcage. “Your mind drifts, beloved?” He tsked softly, smirk spreading. “It seems I am not holding your focus.”

“You hold all my attention, my king,” you murmured, nearly slurred so affected by his touch.

Green flickers of magic, curls and wisps began to climb your legs, wrap and twist, skim your flesh.

The sensation was too much. A million tiny tongues flicking over your skin, licking at you, driving you wild as they climbed ever closer to the pulse beating between your legs. “Loki.”

“What, darling?” he laughed softly, hands sliding up to cup your breasts, weigh them. “Do I not please you, my heart?” he smirked as he bent to lave his tongue over your diamond hard nipple.

An explosion of air left your lungs, a breathy cry of his name when you pulled the tender bud deep into his mouth. The wet pop when he released it to pucker in the cool evening air made you shudder. When he paid the other the same attention, returning his fingers to the first, using magic and pressure and the rolling of the bead to keep it tight and hard and aching, you jerked against your bonds.

The slinking tendrils of magic had made it as high as your thighs. Your legs were beginning to shake, the pleasure of their touch profound, but not nearly enough to appease the ache, the craving in your belly had become. A soft cry, a plea in a moan had the God before you laughing.

His hands cupped and caressed as his lips pressed open-mouthed kisses up your sternum to the hollow of your throat. His magic stalled inches from the apex of your thighs, so close and so teasingly far away. Those elegant fingers worked down your torso, skimming over his mark as his mouth settled beneath your ear. “Do I not please you, my love?” he crooned against you, fingers trailing in a butterfly caress over the sheer fabric at your core. “Speak the words, darling.”

A quiet mewl was all you could force out, body burning, skin aching, the need for him growing.

“Words, pet. I must have them.”

A single digit trailed over you, gentle and slow, teasing along your lips, adding just enough pressure to make your hips buck.

“Please,” you moaned.

His cheek rubbed against yours as he whispered, “Do I please you, my love?”

Rolling your head back so you could see the gleam of lust and power in his eyes you smiled. “With every touch, my king.”

His fingers skimmed up, sank down, slipped beneath the fabric and precisely over your clit. A soft exhale became a whimper as a slow circle shot through all your nerve endings.

“So damp, pet. How delightful. Such a good girl.” His lips brushed yours as he stroked you, tender brushes of fingers and lips.

You shifted your feet wider.

“Greedy,” he tsked, rubbing his free hand over your back and down to your hip where his fingers played with the tie of your underwear. “Should I take these from you?”

“Yes,” you moaned, filled with hope.

“And how should I take them from you, my love? With my hand?” he asked, tugging at the tie while his lips kissed along your jaw and teeth caught your earlobe. “Or my teeth?”

“Teeth. Please, Loki.” A soft whine accompanied your words as his fingers slipped through your slick, rubbing firmer.

“Your flushed, darling,” he whispered, mouth already turning cool. “Let me assist you.”

The sensation of icy lips walking over your skin had you crying out, arching against your invisible restraints. They closed over your nipple, a mouth filled with cool magic washing over your skin. Your breasts ached with your arousal, tingled and burned beneath his touch.

He lavished attention on them both until you were squirming, dragging at your wrists to get closer. Another wicked chuckle rumbled from his chest as cool hands, and cold lips moved down your torso. He licked and kissed your mark, teeth nipping it gently before settling to his knees and turning his attention to the ties.

“Stay still for me, pet,” he breathed against your skin, lips a barely there pressure which had you wanting to arch and buck, get closer to his teasing lips and tongue.

But you held still, knowing him, knowing his ways. Aware he would deny you even the skimming caress if you disobeyed him. “As you say, my king.”

He hummed his happiness, eyes bright when he took the end of one tie between his teeth and gave it a gentle tug. It unravelled allowing the barely there swatch of fabric to fall down your legs.

Leaning forward, Loki pressed his nose to your curls. “You smell like heaven, my love.”

“Maybe you should see if I taste like it as well,” you urged.

He chuckled at your obvious ploy. “Are you rushing me, pet?”

“I would never,” you smiled, body taught and legs quaking with the strain of staying still.

Hands caressed your hips, around and back to squeeze the cheeks of your ass. “I think you would, my queen. I think you crave my tongue stroking and flicking your precious jewel. I think you need it.”

A whimper fell from your lips when his fingers dug in, kneaded the flesh of your ass firmly.  “Please, Loki… I need you.”

“Tell me, would you perish without it?” His nose brushed through your curls, bumped against your mound.

“Yes, yes I would die without it!” you cried, clenching your fists.

His tongue snaked out, swiped through your folds, flicked over your sensitive bud and made you moan wantonly. “There’s the sound I long for,” he smiled up at you, eyes dancing with mischief laced with love.

Before you could say anything, his hands gripped your buttocks, drawing your hips forward while the wicked, silver-tongued devil used his most adept muscle to slide between your lower lips, sweep and curl around the hard bundle of nerves, sending intense pleasure skating through your body and wrapping around your womb.

A hum of enjoyment filtered from his chest. “Like nectar, my sweet. Honey on my tongue.”

Panting softly, you wallowed in the sensations pulsing through you. The glide of smooth muscle, lapping and sucking was slow and thorough, hypnotic almost in how every touch and taste left you mesmerized, aching for more, yearning for more.

The tug of gentle teeth on your lips set you moaning. The thrust of his tongue pushing up inside you made you cry out.

He drank greedily, parched for your taste, continually returning to your clit to flick and nuzzle and drive you higher.

You were yearning toward the stars, seeking the first of many climaxes when he pulled away. “Loki, no,” you moaned.

Fingers caressed the crease of your buttocks before sliding over the slickness of your core. “You were so close, weren’t you, pet?” The elegant appendages dipped in, thrust, curled.

Gasping, you nodded. “Yes, yes, so close.”

His thumb rubbed circles around your jewel. “I do not think you are ready yet, my heart,” he said, pulling his hand away.

“You tease me mercilessly, my king,” you groaned, disappointed, body aching and crying out for his.

“Perhaps I should give you a gift to show you how much I love you.” He pushed up on his feet.

“Gift?” you sighed as he licked the fingers of his hand clean, and palmed your breast with the other.

“Indeed. It was given to Asgard in thanks for the assistance we showed these last ten days. I think it will look stunning on you, beloved.” A wave of fingers had green magic swirling over your chest.

When the magic faded away, you looked down to see what appeared to be a spider web of gold draped around your throat, the points of the web hanging down to rest above the swell of your breast.

He reached for your torque, shifting it to lay on top of the thin filigree, blending the two items into one. “There. Just look at you. How beautiful.” His eyes showed his appreciation.

“Will it not break?” you asked, not wanting to damage something so lovely when he finally let go of all his control.

“Perhaps you’re right, pity,” he sighed, waving his hand a second time and sending it away. Deep green eyes continued to sparkle even with his disappointment. Leaning closer, he pressed a tender kiss to your mouth. “Would you like down, darling?”

You nodded, unable to form the words when he looked at you so.

Hands caressed their way up your arms, linked fingers and removed yours from the wall, causing you to sag against him. He held you up, your joined hands going to the small of your back. “Shall we continue?”

“Mmm,” you nodded, tucking your face against his throat.

He smelled of ice and snow, crisp and clean with a hint of smoke. “I want your hands on me, my heart,” he crooned in your ear.

Tugging them free of his, you began to divest him of his armour. The cuirass was buckled beneath his arm, coming loose and falling to the floor was a soft clang. His long over tunic, done up with frog clasps was removed, the fabric thick, protective and heavy as you took it from him and placed it over a chair. The short under tunic wrapped around his narrow waist. It was easily untied, and just as easily joined his jacket.

His undershirt with the leather ties at the throat had to be pulled over his head, revealing his sleek and toned body. Ridges and hollows of muscle had you swallowing the saliva pooling in your mouth. No longer covered, you could see the evidence of his desire straining his pants.

Smoothing your hands over his shoulders, you let them drift down, caress and touch every inch of his sleek frame. He had the body of a swimmer or a marathon runner instead of the heavy physique of someone like Thor. Fast and agile, you’d watched him train with those knives of his, an experience which had ended abruptly when he’d realized just how turned on it had made you.

You hadn’t even made it back to the room, Loki, finding the closest empty space, had rutted you hard and dirty into the wall. It was still one of your most memorable experiences.

He let you touch him, caress every inch of flesh as you moved around behind him and traced your fingers over his back. Sleek muscles flexed like a pleased cat when you leaned forward and placed a kiss between his shoulder blades.

“Come, pet. Help me from these garments,” his aroused voice purred, causing a shiver of heat to warm your belly.

Instead of returning to his front, though, you slipped your arms around him, fingers delving down, opening the ties on his breeks, taking him in your palm as you pressed your breasts to his back.

“(Y/N),” he groaned when you pulled him free of his confinement. His large cock barely fit in your hand. The first stroke was always slow, gentle, from root right to tip and over, thumb rubbing the tip where he was already leaking.

Your opposite hand skimmed his waist, caressed his abs, came up to rest on his chest and hold him to you. “Do I please _you,_ my king?” you asked, kissing his shoulder, continuing to stroke him, increasing your speed and squeezing the way he liked.

His hand closed around yours, directing it to slow. “Always, pet.”

Humming softly, you brushed your nose against his spine, letting him use your palm as he saw fit. The flex of his buttocks against you was a decadent kind of torture.

“Come, sweet.” He gave your arm a gentle tug, encouraging you around him, but refusing to let your hand leave his length. Once you stood before him again, he toed off his knee-high boots and walked you back toward the foot of the bed.

With every step you stroked him, wrist twisting, gliding over velvet smooth skin. The light of magic in his eyes made them otherworldly, fae you supposed or truly godlike. Predatory and sharp, they watched you from behind heavy lids as he brought you to a halt upon the thick fur rugs which ringed the enormous structure of your shared bed.

Big enough for six, it was a sea of silk and satin sheets in emerald green, mounds of pillows and throws of the softest fur. It was a bed fit for a Prince of Asgard, making you feel decadent and spoiled every time you lounged upon it. It was sensory overload against your naked flesh when he set you upon it the first time.

Reaching with his free hand, Loki cupped your chin, gently dragging the pad of his thumb across your lip, pressing down and slipping the appendage between your teeth. “Anella does such an excellent job with your care. Even the colour on your lips enhances your natural beauty,” he praised quietly, drawing his thumb away. “Show me how much you missed me, darling. Kneel.”

It was a command wrapped in seduction, making your knees weak and legs quiver. Sinking slowly to the rug, aware he’d moved you on purpose, Loki always seeing to your comfort, you released his cock to draw the tight breeks down his legs. Thick, long thighs and strong calves were revealed, and he stepped from them to stand, legs slightly spread before you.

His fingers removed your circlet, throwing it on the chair with his clothes before threaded through your hair, soothing and arousing, causing the fire which had calmed to roar back into life.

Looking up at him through your lashes, you smiled for he was not nearly so controlled as he was pretending. The brightness of his eyes sent shivers down your spine, the clenching of his jaw squeezed a fist around your womb. “Loki,” you whispered, taking the proud length of his beautiful cock back in your hand. You couldn’t quite close your fingers around it, but gave it a firm stroke when he groaned.

You gave a delicate lick to the tip, tasting the coolness of ice and snow again. Swirling it around the crown, you took him in your mouth, his moan deep and heady.

Wisps of magic teased your thighs, danced over your clit, played tendrils of caresses over your core as you slicked your tongue over his large cock, stroking firmly with your hand that which you couldn’t fit in your mouth.

His hand closed in your hair, guiding you. Pants and gasps and quiet moans escaped the stoic God of Mischief whose head was thrown back in ecstasy. “So good, my queen. Such a pleasing mouth.”

Humming in pleasure as the magic working between your legs intensified, you flattened your tongue to the underside of his shaft, rubbing and sucking, licking little flicks as the thick shaft stretches your jaw. Moaning softly, you took him deeper, sucking him down your throat, swallowing around him.

“Fuck,” rumbled like thunder from his chest, a heady growl. “Again, pet.” He thrust gently forward, always careful, just the right side of forceful. Never enough to take the burn of pleasure into pain.

You relaxed, sighing, letting him pick and place you where he would while your hands drifted over muscled thighs and ridged abdominals, cupped and caressed his heavy sack. When he surged forward, held still, you swallowed again pulling a sound like a snarl from his lips. The magic swelled, undulated around you, lapped at you like tongues until you were panting, sweating, moaning on your knees before the god of mischief, the master of illusion, and you were pulling sounds from him no one would ever have believed he would make.

When the muscles beneath your fingers grew taught, when he was at the very edge of his control, he pulled away, removing himself from the confines of your mouth slowly, his fingers carding through your hair, kneading your scalp in gentle circles, showing his approval. “You do that so well, darling, so well.” His magic stalled.

“Loki… please,” you whined, body quaking with how close you were, hot and wet and aching.

His hands caressed your face, tilted it up as he leaned down and kissed you. Tender, soft, and seeking, he bit and tugged your lip. “My precious one,” he crooned, drawing his fingertips down your throat, over your shoulders, and out to your hands, he brought your knuckles to his lips. Brushing his lips across the backs, he gave a gentle pull, bringing you up to your feet. He backed you into the bed, the high mattress hitting you in the backs of the thighs. “Sit, my heart.”

Excitement pounded in your blood as you scooted back, stopping when your knees hooked the edge, and his hands tightened.

Releasing your fingers, he twisted his wrist, and a red silk scarf fell from his hand. “Would you like this tonight?” he smiled. It turned wicked when your pulse jumped and skittered.

When he stepped closer, between your spread thighs, you tilted your head back to look him in the eyes. “If it’s what my king wishes.”

“I can smell how wet you are, darling. Hear the pounding of your heart. See it,” he touched the pulse in your throat, “beating right here.” Leaning closer, he whispered a hair’s breadth from your lips. “I think you want it very badly.”

A shiver raced your spine. With a nod, you closed your eyes. The soft fabric skimmed across the bridge of your nose as he looped it together behind your head, tying it off with a deft twist.

“Lie back, pet.”

The words whispered across your cheek in a breath of cool air. Sinking back, his hands cradling your shoulders, lowering you as you went, you settled into the lush furs and silks, wiggling just a little at the feel of all the softness against your skin.

He chuckled with your actions as his hands caressed down your ribs to your hips. Kneading gently, causing your breathing to skitter, you jumped when soft lips and a wet tongue pressed and licked around your belly button. “My pretty darling, whatever shall I do with you tonight?”

It was a question which needed no answer for he would do what he pleased, what pleased you both, and you knew it.

All touch ended, his hands lifting off you, and you whimpered softly.

“Shh,” he whispered, a fingertip returning to trail down your sternum. “Open your mouth, beloved.”

Your lips parted, tongue darting out to wet your lips. The weight and coolness of the glass cylinder, smooth but ridged, passed over your lips, slid along the bottom one before dipping into your mouth and settling on your tongue.

“Suck, my queen.”

The command set your heart racing and your walls clenching as you sucked and warmed the glass dildo, more shivers wracking your frame with the knowledge of what was coming.

Your first night with Loki had been an experience on multiple levels. He was an adept - superior - lover with skills beyond your understanding, but he was also a snoop. The man had had zero reservations about poking through and around your apartment while you’d slept off the blissed-out state he’d left you in.

When you’d next awoken, he’d been sitting on the chair in the corner of your bedroom, a devilish smile on his lips as he’d watched you sleep with a box you knew very well sitting open on his lap.

“Darling, is there something you wish to tell me?” he’d asked, lifting the pink vibrator from within.

After thoroughly enjoying making you use each and every one of your toys so he would have an understanding of how they worked and dragging you out to the most extensive sex shop you could find, he’d made it his mission to design and perfect the most pleasing toy he could. He was magical after all, who better but him for the job?

He’d been so full of himself, but damn if you hadn’t enjoyed the process. Now, he had a variety of _toys_ he liked playing with on earth, but here again, electrical devices did not do so well on Asgard. The glass, however, was a personal favourite of his. So much like ice, he’d said the first time he’d used it on you.  

“Perfect,” he crooned, pulling the toy from your lips. The slicked tip skimmed your chin, landed on your chest, began a slow journey down your body to where his other hand had fallen to press open your thighs.

It passed slowly over your wet lips, rubbing deliciously against your throbbing clit, the sensations all so much more potent without your sight. “Loki,” sighed from your lips.

“Patience, my sweet,” he murmured.

The sound of him moving came to your ear, you imagination providing the picture of him settling to his knees, the height of the bed perfectly aligning him with your core. Again your walls, clenched, the hard throb sending pleasure straight through you, causing you to nearly drip with need. “Loki, _please_!” The constant rubbing of the slick cylinder over your clit was becoming intolerable.

Lips landed on your thigh, teeth nipped a mark, and the ridged glass was sliding inside you with a slow thrust. It curled your toes and arched you from the bed, a gasp flying from your lips.

A heavy hand landed on your belly, pressing you down, holding you still as you writhed at the intrusion. He didn’t stop, just kept pushing the heavily ridged glass into your clenching walls as quite cries and soft sobs filled the air until it bottomed out. “Breathe. You must calm before we begin.”

His voice held that smug, self-assured, pleased tone you knew so well. He loved seeing you like this, wrecked and wailing, at his mercy and enjoying it. You could imagine the smile, the gleaming eyes of green, the sheen of sweat maintaining his control had left upon his face.

Blowing out a breath, you forced your muscles to relax one by one until you were pliant again.

“Good,” he purred, thumb rubbing over your clit.

You shuddered but stayed soft.

“Shall we, my queen?” his voice rumbled, full of passion and excitement.

Before you could answer, his mouth fell to your core, tongue sweeping over your bundle of nerves. Your hands clenched in the bedding beneath you. “Oh god,” you moaned. The waves of pleasure left you breathless, shaking. Then, he began to withdraw the dildo. The sensations were so strong, you screamed your joy to the ceiling.  

“So sensitive, so responsive,” he moaned, finding your pleasure as exciting as his own.

The ridges rubbed along your walls, catching your sweet spot over and over and over until the tip was all that remained inside you.

He paused, and a groan rumbled in his chest. “You taste like the mead in Valhalla, like the sweetest Asgardian wine.”

You were unable to respond when he pressed it back inside and went to work on your swollen jewel. The steady slide of glass, the circling of his tongue, the heat and wet of the slick muscle locked you into a haze of pleasure so strong, it had you gasping for breath, shaking and sobbing from the intensity. Your heels dug into the edge of the bed trying to rock you into his mouth, but his hand only pressed harder against your belly.

“When I say, my love,” he murmured, nose brushing through your curls.

“Please, Loki!” you begged, so close to coming you felt strung tight.

“When I say.”

A high pitched whine proceeded a sob as you sank your fingers into his hair. Gasping softly, you fought back your release as his tongue continued to lap slowly around the glass, catch and flick your clit. “Loki!”

“Wait.”

The thrusts quickened, his tongue teased, and you screamed, wrenching at his hair.

“Now,” he chuckled, closing his lips around your clit and sucking hard.

Your body bowed, and the coil within your womb snapped. Walls clenching, you shook and cried, the release so intense you’d fallen into unintelligible whimpers and moans, tears soaking the blindfold. Whips of pleasure raced through your veins with every beat of your heart, every pulse of your throbbing walls, every glide of ridged glass through your core.

Floating on a cloud of bliss, you moaned when the glass finally slipped free. Big hands pressed your thighs open as Loki lapped slowly over your opening, drinking your release like it was an offering to a god. The thought nearly made you giggle. It was an offering to a god, your god.

Again you could hear him shift, likely getting to his feet, a theory which proved correct when his hands dug beneath your hip and back, lifting you up against his chest as he knelt on the bed and shifted you up it. “Loki, take the blindfold off,” you whispered against his cheek.

“Why?” he asked, laying you among the pillows and settling at your side, his heavy cock resting on your hip.

Reaching blindly for him, he brought your hands to his chest. “I want to see you.”

He chuckled quietly, fingers skating over your cheek and beneath the edge of the blindfold.

You blinked when it came free, finding the room had darkened substantially since his return. The fire in the hearth and the lamp beside the bed casting light and shadow across his features, across his body. Threading your fingers through his hair, you fixed the mess you’d made earlier as you turned into his chest.

His hand delved into your hair, cupped your nape, and drew you closer to kiss you tenderly. “My darling, how I love you.”

“Loki,” you sighed, arms going around his neck.

He rolled to his back, taking you with him. His hands cupped your thighs, drawing them up his waist, so your wet core glided over his hard cock. Groaning, he thrust up, setting your body throbbing. “Ride for me.”

Sitting back, you rose above him, rocked your hips, gliding your wetness over him. “Is that your wish, my king?”

Another devil smile spread across his lips, one you couldn’t help but return. “I command it of you.”

Rising higher, you took him in hand and guided the thick tip to your opening. Pressing down, you moaned at the stretch, his size pushing you to your limits no matter how many times he loved you. You kept the descent slow, savoured the burn, revelled in the way he groaned beneath you and the clench of his hands on your hips.

Once you were seated again, you took a moment to breathe, wallow in the feel of him throbbing inside you. “Loki,” you sighed, running your hands down his chest and over his stomach.

“Ride, darling. Ride for me,” he urged, using his hands to pull you forward.

Looking at him, eyes heavy-lidded, smile sexy, cheeks lightly flushed, you had a moment of heart-stopping realization.

He was yours. Loki, the God of Mischief, a Prince of Asgard, was yours.

It was the same thing which happened every time you were together when you saw him like this. It filled you with wonder and disbelief at ever being so blessed as to be born his one, his queen.

Rocking forward, letting him lead with the hands at your waist, you moaned softly at the pull and glide of his thick cock out of your tight walls. It was a pleasure so profound, you lost yourself in the rhythm, soft sounds falling from your lips. Sweat glistened on your skin, on Loki’s, trickled down your spine.

“Touch yourself, darling,” he crooned. “Touch yourself.”

Crying out when he surged upward, you slid your hands across your body, up your thighs, over your belly, up to your breasts where you cupped them, rolling your nipples, whimpers and moans escaping with every thrust of his hips.

Green tendrils of magic begin to gather around you both, flick and caress. Everywhere they touched sent shocks of pleasure through your body.

The strength of his arms was unfailing, lifting you over him, driving you back down, filling you so full you cried and moaned and begged as the wet sound of your bodies coming together filled the air.

He sat up, jerking you into him harder, his arm banding your hips and hand sinking into your hair.

Your arms went around his neck, hands thrusting into his hair, legs shifting to wrap his waist. “Loki,” you sighed as his lips latched to your throat. Rolling your hips, you gasped at the silky glide, his little show of strength turning you on and making you wetter.

Then he was kissing you, mouth ravaging, tongue forcing between your lips. Your noses brushed, tongues twining and twisting, teeth nipping and tugging as you undulated against him like a wave. The burn in your belly was so big, so powerful, you groaned with each slide of his ridge over your sweet spot.

“That’s it, that’s it,” he whispered against your lips when yours fell open, unable to continuing kissing him when all you could do was gasp for breath. “I can feel you tighten, darling, your sweet walls squeezing me. Come, my heart, seek Valhalla in my arms.”

His teeth closed on your shoulder, your nipples gliding over his chest. A strong hand drew you down hard and fast.

“Loki,” you whined, feeling the coil inside you ready to snap.

“Do it now,” he growled against your throat. The coil broke as he pulled you down.

Arching into him, your head fell back as you screamed to the ceiling. You pulsed around him, making him groan. The throbbing of his cock intensified.

Before you’d even calmed, he had you on your back, mouth working over your throat, kissing, licking, nipping. “Beautiful, beautiful, darling,” he praised, grinding into you. The hand at your hip hooked beneath you knee and drew it up, placed it over his shoulder. Slow, gentle thrusts, careful of his size, he pulled almost all the way out, pushed all the way back in.

“I won’t break,” you moaned, tugging on his hair.

“But you will, my queen,” he whispered, eyes bright green with his magic. “You will break on the wave of my lust for you. Your body will quake and shatter, and I will be here to catch you, to piece you back together.”

You moaned deeply with his words, with the sharp thrust of his hips. The speed of each thrust increased. Your hand skimmed down his back, clenched on the contracting muscle of his buttock.

“You’re going to come again, pet. You’re going to come for me, come very hard on my cock. You will strangle me with your walls.” He plunged into you, hard and fast, forcing your breath from you and small cries from your lips. Gripping your hair, he tipped your chin up. “Do it now.”

Screaming his name, you convulsed around him, squeezing him so tightly he was required to pause in his motion, his head falling to your shoulder, a pleasure filled moan rumbling in his chest. “So good, pet.”

He sat up, pulled away, your leg falling from his shoulder. With deft hands, he flipped you to your belly. A pillow was stuffed beneath your hips, and he was rubbing his tip over your wet lips within seconds. “Say my name, darling.”

“Loki,” you moaned, core aching for his return.

He pressed forward an inch. “Again.”

“Loki.”

He sank to the hilt, body coming down on yours. His hand brushed your hair from your face, your cheek against the lush furs. His weight pressed you deeper into the bed. “Tell me you love me,” he whispered against your ear.

“I love you, my king.” It was the easiest answer to give. “With everything I am.”

“My precious one,” he crooned as he began to move. “My heart, my love, my queen.”

The position drove him directly against your g-spot, and you were seeing stars and feeling the lightning whip of pleasure flow through your veins within moments. “Oh, Loki!” you cried as he laboured over you, his breath against your cheek a cool wash laced with magic.

He grunted softly with each thrust, the monumental control he’d been exerting was finally slipping. Each plunge drove him against your buttocks. His hands clenched in the bedding beside your head. His teeth closed in your shoulder again, as he strove for his own release.

The hard pistoning of his hips, the glide of his body against yours, the scent of his magic as it surrounded you, was heady. Intoxicating. He bottomed out repeatedly, rolled his hips, opened your legs wider to sink deeper until you were crying out without end.

Levering himself up, he grabbed your hips and dragged you back, fucking into you hard and fast, a sound like a growl flowing from him.

When you managed to glance back, through the mist of green magic, you whimpered at the sight of him. Mouth open and panting, eyes no more than slits of green behind his heavy lids. The air seemed to crackle and spark around him as he lost himself to the heat and wet of your body. “Loki,” you moaned.

His eyes snapped to yours, and he was leaning down, gathering you close, and lifting you against him, rising to his knees with you in his arms. One large hand wrapped around your throat, the other sank against your stomach. “Tell me,” he demanded softly as he began to slowly thrust again.

“I am yours, my king!” you cried out when his hand at your throat tightened, holding you against his shoulder.

Lips tugged your earlobe. “My queen.” His fingers brushed down, skated through your curls, dipped between your lips and centred on your clit. They circled swiftly, plucked gently, and had tears cascading down your face with the pleasure.

His smooth rhythm started to falter as his speed increased, as the twitch and flutter of your walls intensified, as the heat around you grew unbearable until finally, he pinched your tiny nub between his fingers.

“Come for me, my sweet,” his panting breath in your ear was all you needed for the building wave of pleasure to crest and send you tumbling into an ocean of release.

The cry he rent from you was more sob than scream as your whole body erupted in fireworks of sensation, bolts of searing pleasure which stole your breath and your voice. Your mind blanked, going white, unable to focus past the continued pounding of his hips and the throbbing of your body.

Sloppy hips and a swelling cock preceded a feral snarl as he took you hard, almost brutally so, until a wild roar ripped into the air.

The heat of his release painted your walls, setting you moaning, gasping in little cries of delight before the two of you fell to the bed still joined.

Loki lay heaving for breath behind you, his arms holding you tight, slick skin sliding deliciously together.  “Are you alright?” he asked once he’d slowed his breathing.

“Perfect,” you sighed happily, already dozing.

Chuckling softly, he pulled away, hissing when your body contracted in rejection of his leaving. He rolled from the big bed and padded across the room to where a basin and pitcher sat waiting. Returning with a wet cloth, you smiled a smug little grin, noting the way his legs shook ever so slightly as he walked.

You’d done that, put a wobble in the God of Mischief’s stride.

“What is that naughty grin for?” he snickered, climbing back on the bed and rolling you to your back.

His gentle ministrations as he cleaned the sweat and other fluids from your body felt nice, setting you stretching like a pleased kitten. “I was simply wondering if my king broke on the tide of my lust as well.”

“Cheeky,” he huffed, leaning down to kiss your lips.

Yawning, you shivered in the cool evening air. Now that he was done with you, your temperature was cooling rapidly.

A snap of fingers hand a nightgown appearing in his hand when the cloth disappeared. The gown floor length, a deep teal green in colour, but sheer with a ruffled edge along the scooped neckline.

They weren’t exactly what you would call _warm_ , but with the furs piled on the bed, and Loki to curl up to, you didn’t really need flannels. Besides, the way he looked at you when the firelight shone through the thin fabric made you feel decadent and very wicked.

“Time for bed, darling,” he whispered as he maneuvered your limbs and limp body into the gown. Lifting you up, he tore back the sheets, sliding you both between them and cuddling close.

Turning to face him, you nestled into his chest with a sigh. “I missed you, and not just for your body,” you teased.

“Hm, brat.” He lightly tickled your ribs making you squeal. Gathering you close, he rubbed his nose along your crown. “Sleep now. You need your rest.”

Nodding, you yawned, “As my king commands.”

“Such a naughty girl,” he chuckled.

***

Loki waited only long enough for his beloved’s breathing to even out, and her body to soften into sleep before leaving the bed. It took nothing more than a wave of his hand to have himself cleaned and clothed, garbed as a prince of Asgard, ever honour afforded him displayed from the golden guards that wrapped his wrists, to the heavy torque around his throat, to the armoured breastplate given him by Thor.

With a final look at his sleeping wife, he left their chambers, heading for the continued sounds of revelry coming from the hall. He was uncertain what showed in his face, but whatever it was, it had the guards coming to attention. His heavy cape snapped around his ankles as he stormed down hallways, slowing only when he reached the doors of the hall.

Striding inside, he searched the crowd.

“Loki!” Thor bellowed. “It is about time you joined us. Where is your lady wife, my lovely sister?”

A smirk momentarily crossed his lips. “Resting. It was a _vigorous_ homecoming.” Laughter and cheers filled the hall.

Sif appeared at his side. “Loki, I did everything in my power-”

He held up his hand and looked her in the eyes. “You are not to blame, Sif. (Y/N) counts you as her friend, and so do I. Where is he?”

She nodded toward the table closest to Thor’s. “Be warned, Loki. He speaks of your wife to others. Things I dare not repeat.”

Grabbing her arm, he snarled, “What things?”

The flush on Sif’s face said it all.

“He claims to have touched her? My bonded wife? The one woman meant for me? The one who bears my mark!”

“Malis claims as no one has seen her mark…” she trailed off, eyes growing wide when Loki’s features darkened.

“Her mark is mine to witness! No one else!” Though had any bothered to question her maids, they would have been able to describe it in detail.

Turning away, Loki stalked toward the tables at the front, hand twitching, itching to reach for the dagger at his waist, but not yet, not just yet. Not until he could put it through Malis’ heart.

Deep in his cups already, the golden-headed warrior never saw him coming until Loki had slammed his hand around the man’s throat and lifted him high into the air. “Malis! You insult my wife and expect to go unpunished!?”

Slamming him back first into the table, Loki crushed plates and goblets, spilled mead and ale and scattered the others seated with him. A swift draw and flip had his sharply honed dagger pressed to the man’s throat. “Tell me why I shouldn’t slit your throat here and now for the insult brought upon her?”

“Loki! Brother?” Thor arrived at his side, hand held out. “What happens here?”

“Malis has been making (Y/N)’s life here uncomfortable since we left, is that not right, Sif?” Loki called out, keeping his eyes on Malis.

“It’s true, my king.” She bowed her head to Thor. “I threatened to remove Sir Davos hand should he touch her again.”

“That he touched her _once_ is reason enough for me to cut out his heart!” Loki bellowed.

“My king!” Lord Davos rushed his bulk forward to plead with Thor. “He is my only son!”

“Then you should have taught him how soul bonds worked, Lord Davos!” Loki scoffed, digging in his dagger and making Malis squeal.

Malis, already made stupider by the ale Loki could smell hollered, “She bears no mark!”

“Marked or no, she is Loki’s wife!” Thor bellowed, causing thunder to crack and roll. “And she is my sister, the darling of this court. That you have approached her inappropriately…” he only shook his head.

“Loki.”

***

The quiet call of his name caused him to look up to see you standing in the doorway of the hall wearing the beaded dress from early with sleep-tousled hair.

“My heart, you were asleep.”

Walking through the gathered watchers, you didn’t look right or left, just at him, always at him. “Think you I don’t notice when you leave our bed?”

“You should not be here, (Y/N),” he murmured, the harsh look back in his eyes.

You peered at him for a moment before glancing down at Malis, and over to the scared face of Lord Davos. “Lord Davos, I very much enjoy your company. Your vast knowledge is fascinating, but your son leaves a foul taste in my mouth.”

“My apologies, lady. Had I known…”

You tilted your head, refusing to let everyone see how nervous you were, how hard you were holding yourself together. “The fault is mine.”

“It bloody well is not!” Loki shouted.

Turning back to him, hunched over the snivelling Davos, you smiled gently. His appearance was that of a wild thing, a feral wolf defending his pack, but he wasn’t an animal. “Yes, Loki, it is. I should have spoken up long before Sif got involved. Malis is stupid and immature. I should have handled things better, starting with telling Lord Davos his son’s company was no longer welcome.”

A wicked smile curved Loki’s lips. “You hear that, Malis? You are dismissed.” Rising up, Loki hauled the man to his feet and gave him a shove. “The princess no longer wishes to look upon you.”

“You’re nothing more than a monster in Asgardian garb!” Malis hissed. “And she’s no better than a whore!”

Gasps resounded throughout the hall. Lord Davos cringed, but it was Loki who froze everything in his path on his way to reach Davos. Frost coated tables, benches, plates and bowls.

“I will show you the monster!” he shrieked.

Darting forward, you stepped into his path. “Loki.”

He made to step around you, but you went with him. “Darling… move.”

“No, Loki. This isn’t the way.”

“It’s the Asgardian way!”

“Then it’s a stupid way!” you hollered when his voice rose. Reaching out, you took the dagger from his fist. “All of this because of the mark! Well, I’m tired of it. They want to see it so badly? Fine!” Pulling the fabric from your body, you slashed the dress open at your hip, revealing a portion of the mark, and confirming your bond. Turning to face Malis, you pointed at it. “Happy, asshole?”

His eyes widened in shocked disbelief, whether from your words or your actions you didn’t know and didn’t care, but he nodded, vigorously.

“Good. Fine. Excellent! Now, everyone will act like _civilized_ human beings and stop this nonsense, and you,” you pointed at Malis, “will come to the realization that I have stopped my husband from maiming you _twice_ today and smarten up!” Glaring at them all, you reserved the hardest glare for Loki. “Good night, _husband_ ,” you snapped before turning to Thor. “Forgive me for interrupting, my King. You bowed your head, aware of his smirking face and stormed away when he nodded.

Thor sidled up beside Loki. “Oh, you’re in so much trouble.” The king of Asgard snickered as he nudged his brother with his elbow.

“So it appears.” Turning on Malis, Loki pointed at him as well. “See to it you remain out of my sight for the foreseeable future, or I will see you skinned and left to rot.”

Malis nodded, again rather vigorously, “Yes, my lord.”

Huffing, Loki stalked out of the hall with long strides, catching up to you halfway back to your rooms.

“That was impressive, darling. A true princess decree.”

You snorted softly, unimpressed. “Leaves me alone to go threaten some stinky drunk man,” you huffed. “I’ve half a mind to lock you out of our room and make you sleep elsewhere.”

“My defending your honour annoys you, my queen?” he asked, sounding offended.

“Defend my honour? Ha! I can defend my own honour.”

He spun you into the wall and pinned you there. “And you did, beautifully, but I am yours as you are mine. It is my right to react when I feel you have been threatened. You should never be unhappy here.”

Sighing, you cupped his face. “I’m not unhappy.”

“You seemed it when I returned.”

“Well…” you murmured, “you were gone _forever_.”

“I shall endeavour not to be gone so long again.”

“Good.” Pressing up on your toes, you kissed his lips.

He swept you off your feet. “Just _how_ is this dress staying up after I rent the seams?”

“Safety pins,” you said with a giggle. “You tend to shred me out of my clothes on a regular basis, so I brought a bunch of them with me from home.”

“Clever, but now I will simply have to take you out of it again.”

“Is that so?” you asked.

“Indeed,” he crooned against your ear as he shoved open your chamber door. “Did you put your undergarments back on, pet?”

You shook your head slowly, smirking at him and his twinkling eyes.

“How very wicked of you, running around the palace without your knickers. Perhaps I should show you what happens to such naughty girls.”

Laughing softly, you wrapped your arms around his neck. “So be it, my king.”

**_-The End-_ **


End file.
